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Aaron was no stranger to stress. Not by a long shot. His mother told him he’d always been wound a little tight, and his life had been peppered with periods of nigh-inconsolable anxiety: His mother’s illness had his normally docile teenage self getting into fist fights with castle guards and defying Lucan, and in the week leading up to his Awakening, he only ate about a few days’ worth of food, struggling to keep anything down as the prospect of being mundane loomed over him like a death sentence. And, of course, he'd been walking on glass since his first night at the Academy. 

But this was different. He thought he knew stress. He was a fool; he truly had no idea. Every waking moment since that broadcast was a storm of worry the likes of which he’d never known; to say it drove him crazy was to neglect the miles past crazy he’d traveled. His only thoughts were of what might have become of Varis, what might become of [i]him[/i] if his master really was dead. His nightmares continued throughout the break, but he didn’t care; they paled in comparison to the terrors that plagued him about what might happen if Varis really was dead. Besides, it wasn’t like he was sleeping much anyway, with the swirling pit in his stomach jarring him awake every other moment. 

On top of the uncertainty—Malek’s cryptic assurance was no help—he was trapped, Ryner having locked down the castle like a fortress to keep investigators out and a certain manic light mage in. It was the first time Aaron ever felt the walls of Noila Castle close in around him; for a week—a [i]week![/i]—he was forced to stay put, consoling himself by scouring anything and everything that might be even tangentially related to Varis, his companies, the Red Hand, or any other Sinnenodel who might want to target him. But the castle, for all its resources, held next to nothing; he’d never noticed before how much of its records pertained only to the royal family, or how deftly the censors of the realm kept the internet clean of anything too interesting. Yet another instance of having drifted through life blind until now. 

That week was one of the longest of his life, along with a few other milestones: It was the first time he’d ever flagrantly tried to disobey an order from the Princess, the first time he’d ever tried to escape castle grounds without permission. To his chagrin, the guards had prepared; Ryner must have had them scramble their usual shift schedules so Aaron couldn’t exploit his knowledge of their routine. Of course, if he hadn’t been tackled by guards those few times, he couldn’t claim to know where he’d go next, or what he’d do. He had no knowledge of investigation, no idea who to contact with Malek and Eris dismissing him, no idea who could help, but it didn’t matter. Even wandering aimlessly in search of a solution would be better than being forced to sit still and do nothing. 

By the time he was finally, [i]finally[/i] allowed to leave—albeit transported by an armed retinue back to the Academy—Aaron was a stranger to himself. His very skin felt like a prison, tight and squirming, and it was as if he watched his life from some faraway vantage point, difficult to comprehend that anything happening was real. He was exhausted—no, far beyond exhausted, he looked like a man on the brink of death—but he couldn’t rest. How could he when his master might be dead, captured, tortured, or worse? He’d gone through every possible scenario so many times they’d all started to bleed together, his brain running on fumes in a haze somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, but he couldn’t stop. Not until he knew for sure. 

On arrival at the Academy, Aaron bypassed his dorm entirely, taking off to every administrative building he could think of in a search for ever more information. Repeatedly, he was told the same thing: There was a standing order that none of Varis’ belongings were to be moved unless he failed to show up for his first class. That was more than he’d been able to learn at home, thank fate, but still infuriating, and no matter how hard he tried, no one he spoke to could—or [i]would[/i]—elaborate. So what, were they just as uncertain as him? He was sure Ryner knew something, but his pleading had fallen on deaf ears back at the castle, and he was too disgusted with her cruelty to face her any longer. He ran around campus for a solid night to no avail, until he was forcibly brought back to his dorm and told not to resurface until class the next night. 

And so he was trapped again. 

As much as he wanted to smash every window in the place just for something to [i]do[/i], he controlled himself; instead, he kept himself occupied by deep cleaning the dorm more times than he could really remember, Dawn hanging from his hip all the while. He washed and disinfected and polished until his hands were red and raw, straightened everything to geometrical perfection, chased every last speck of dust from the house. More than once he stared calculatively at the closed door to Varis’ room or the locked drawers in his desk. There could very well be something among Varis’ belongings that might shed light on his whereabouts, but Aaron refrained. No matter how out of his mind he was, he wouldn’t cross that boundary while there was still any possibility Varis would return. But if he didn’t, Aaron would tear that room and desk to shreds if he had to. 

If he slept at all, it would have been with his head on his arm, slumped over the kitchen island between trawling news articles on his phone. But aside from occasional bursts of fruitless research, his phone was largely forgotten; Eris didn't have anything to offer him—or even the decency to answer his phone himself—and no one else could help him, so the multitude of notifications from Lilie and everyone else the past few nights went largely unanswered. He’d long since put it on silent; in his state, he was pulling his sword at every little noise out of place, paranoid it was the Red Hand or some wannabe Sinnenodel heir coming to finish what they started. 

When 8:15pm finally rolled around, finding Aaron pacing a rut in the living room floor, things were no different. Between heartbeats [i]swooshing[/i] in his ear, the jostling of the front door lock was deafening; Dawn was out and ready before he even registered moving, but then he went stone-still, glaring absolute murder at the door from the end of the hall. 

[color=f0d705][i]You had better try to kill me after all this fucking grief.[/i][/color]

Aaron watched with burning eyes as the door swung inward, heart thundering his ears as someone stepped in. Time crawled as the intruder slipped inside; first a foot, then another, a coat, a glove. Aaron held his last breath, muscles tensed and ready to strike, mind blank and focused until the colour returned to his vision and a red head of hair came into view. 

His heart halted in his chest as the realization struck him. It wasn't a stranger, it wasn't an illusion; it was Varis. 

[color=f0d705]“Master?!”[/color] 

Aaron straightened so fast he almost lost his balance, fumbling to sheathe his sword with unsteady fingers before rushing down the hall to meet him. Honestly, it was a miracle he found his scabbard at all; he was so shocked he nearly dropped the blade on the floor. 

[color=f0d705]“Master, you're alright!”[/color] He exclaimed hoarsely, too overwhelmed to temper his voice. It took all he had to keep himself from reaching out to confirm that Varis was real; relief hit him like a freight train, and for a moment, he thought he might pass out. His vision swam, mind abuzz and blank at the same time. He wanted to jump for joy and fall to his knees to thank whatever powers that brought his master back safely. 

He did neither, opting instead to catch his balance with a hand on the wall, looking like a man who’d just skirted death. [color=f0d705]“Master, I'm so glad to see you safe,”[/color] he breathed, hardly able to muster a proper speaking voice. [color=f0d705]“I was so worried, Master, I did everything I could but Ryner wouldn't let me [i]leave[/i], I was out of my mind— of course, you don't care. It’s not important.”[/color] He cut himself off from his rambling, raising a hand. He was a total wreck, running his mouth like a fool, but he didn't care. Varis could yell at him all he wanted so long as he was alive and present to do it. 

Even with that in mind, Aaron could scarcely contain himself. For the first time in a week, he could [i]breathe[/i], though he struggled to gulp the air down around the growing lump in his throat. Relief didn't even come close to describing it; he didn't spare a single thought to how Varis had treated him the past few months, genuinely overjoyed that he was back, hale and whole. 

Suddenly, Aaron gasped; he hadn't made sure of that yet! [color=f0d705]“But you, Master; are you alright? What happened? They didn't tell me anything—Is there anything I can do?”[/color] He spoke earnestly, his questions firing one after the other. 

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